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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246212">Merry Freaking Christmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyChaser/pseuds/RileyChaser'>RileyChaser</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Women's Soccer RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Fluff and Smut, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, holiday fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:19:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyChaser/pseuds/RileyChaser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Christen is late to everything. She flies into the Target parking lot banging on the doors begging to be let in. She just needs to pick up a gift. A mysterious woman agrees to let her pick up the gift in the back. Christen, feeling brave for the first time in her life, asks the heroic woman out for a drink.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tobin Heath/Christen Press</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>204</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Attention Shoppers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This took about a day. I wanted to write some fluffy goodness. Hanukkah is over and Christmas coming up like a bat out of hell. So I thought I would write something kind of Holiday related, but mainly just some good old fashion fun. And of course, a little smut in the middle.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was officially 9:08.</p><p>"No, no, no," Christen whispered to herself as she slammed her car in park, ripped the hand brake, and jumped out the door without shutting the door fully.</p><p>She looked up at the department store. It was pitch black. She looked back at the only light, which was from her car. Quickly, she opened and shut her car door, then dashed across the parking lot.</p><p>Skidding across the slightly icy ground, she stopped just short of the sliding doors that didn't slide open as she approached. Her hands cupped and pressed against the Plexiglas. Christen tried to see inside the dark building.</p><p>"Hello," she called out, her breath fogging up the clear window. "Is anyone there?"</p><p>Was it pointless? It was officially 9:10, and the store had been closed for ten minutes. It was Christmas Eve; there was no way anyone was leftover in this big box store. Everyone was already home, with their families, drinking cocoa, giddy to open the presents they picked up on time. Giddy was a stupid word. Or maybe she felt that way because she felt stupid at the moment.</p><p>She was late, as per usual. Christen Press, like a fucking coffee order from the same spot you go to every single morning, she was habitually late. Now she was standing outside Target after closing hours, with her face pressed to the glass, in the hopes that someone would be there to rescue her from her stupid mistake.</p><p>It was so cold outside. She was starting to shiver even though her adrenaline was pumping from the remarkably fast drive here on the clearly unsafe roads. The way she came sliding in the parking lot could give drifters a shock, and yet all of that was for nothing. If only she had left her house ten minutes earlier. If only she had thought about all of this earlier. If only she wasn't the exact person she was.</p><p>As all the hope drained from her body, Christen slammed her fist on the door and lowered her head. She started to go through excuses in her mind. She was going to need one tomorrow when she showed up empty-handed, and all those eyes that looked just like hers were staring at her with disappointment. It was like a mirror of dissatisfaction and exhaustion.</p><p>She was preparing a good excuse in her mind when she looked back up she saw a shadowy figure.</p><p>"Hello," she called out as the figure disappeared into the darkness. "Hello? Are you there?" she jumped a little, trying to get a look at the moving thing in the dark building. "Please, I know you guys are closed. I know I am so late. I just need to pick up an order. I already paid for it and everything. I just need to pick it up. Please. It's for my niece. For Christmas. Please. I am begging you."</p><p>Maybe she wasn't loud enough. The doors were thick. Maybe the leftover worker didn't hear her. Or, more likely, they didn't care. It was probably some poor soul left stocking shelves or something else they didn't want to do on holiday.</p><p>Christen was ready to give up hope, thinking for a second that maybe she had hallucinated the figure. That could be a thing. She dropped acid once in college. That stuff can stay in your brain and can make you trip randomly. She panic read after that lovely piece of information after she dropped acid.</p><p>After her five-second freakout, she looked up to see the figure coming closer to the door. Only it wasn't a figure. It was a woman. A hot woman.</p><p>"Hello," Christen said, in an excited voice, looking at the woman as she walked up. "Hi, I know you guys are closed. I just need to pick up my niece's Christmas present. I already paid. I ordered online. I have the order number in an email." She started to click through her phone, the screen lighting up her face. "It's here, I promise. I just need to get the one thing, and I'll be gone, I promise."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>She looked up, in complete shock by the answer. Sometimes when you beg someone for something, you know it's futile, but you do it anyway. It's like you want an outcome, but you also know what it will most likely be, but you beg anyway because then you can tell yourself, "at least I begged" it takes the blame off you, in a sick way.</p><p>"Seriously?" Why was she questioning?</p><p>The woman thrust her thumb behind her shoulder, "Meet me in the back. I can't open these doors. I don't have the keys."</p><p>"Oh, okay," Christen could feel her cold cheeks tighten as she smiled.</p><p>There were two things running through her mind as she headed towards the back of the store. Well, three things. First, she was shocked that someone was willing to help her. Who in the Christmas miracle was this girl, and why was she so amazing? Second, the woman was good looking. Sure, she didn't get the greatest look at her, but she could tell she was something to look at. And third, it was dark in the back. Hopefully, this hero was an actual hero and not an ax murder.</p><p>As she rounded the corner of the gigantic building, making a choice to text her friend. Just in case she was murdered in the back of a Target. Not that the text would save her, but at least it would give the cops something to go by. Leave some clues. That was smart. However, it would have been smarter not to go to the back in the first place. It would have been smarterer to leave her house an hour before the store thirty minutes away closed and not thirty minutes before.</p><p>"Okay, Chrissy, you got this. She looked friendly."</p><p>So did Ted Bundy. But when do women kill randomly? Women kill for passion. Right?</p><p>"Okay, calm down. Be cool. Stay Sexy. Don't get murdered."</p><p><b>[Christen:]</b> I made it to Target. Not on time. But a worker is letting me pick up my gift. A woman. She's tall with dark brown hair. She's cute. Just in case she murders me.</p><p>So that was her death text. The last one that the cops would read over and try to decipher her murder. That was okay. Abby would be cool with this. Right?</p><p><b>[Christen]</b> Also. I love you.</p><p>In the back, there was a sign: <i>CUSTOMER PICK UP.</i> There was a light shining down on an industrial door. This has to be the place—a good a place as any to get stabbed to death.</p><p>She stood with her phone, clutched in her hand. The air was wet, a little sprinkle that would turn into snow in a few hours when the temperature dropped to freezing. Then the thought of them having to thaw out her body popped into her mind, and she felt a little sorry for her family. But then again, she didn't, because they would learn that she got killed because she was late for something. One of them would probably say something like "Typical Christen," and that was just annoying.</p><p>The door clicked, shocking her out of her own morbid thoughts, and she stepped back for it to swing half open and the woman popping her head out.</p><p>She was so much more than just good looking.</p><p>"Hey," she smiled brightly, looking out the door, peaking behind it, then looking around the darkness, before settling back on Christen. "You said you had an order."</p><p>"Right," Christen coughed, trying to get herself in order. She started scrolling through her email, her hands working slower in the cold. She laughed a little to herself as she found the email and held up the screen. "It's paid for and everything. I just need to pick it up."</p><p>The woman looked over at the phone, the light from the device lighting up her eyes. They were brown. A deep brown. The kind that makes you want to stare into them. Christen got caught up in the color of her eyes and the lines in her cheeks that suggested she was a little older, not a teenager that usually worked these stores at these hours. Maybe she was in her twenties, mid to late.</p><p>"Okay, give me a second," she looked up with a kind smile.</p><p>"Do you need my phone for the number?" Christen asked, not sure why'd she give up her lifeline in this somewhat dangerous situation.</p><p>She shook her head, "54618920," she tapped her finger on her temple. "Steal trap." She gave a quick smile, big and bright, and a huge indication that she took care of herself, no one with that white smile treated their body like crap. "Be right back."</p><p>The door closed over, and suddenly Christen wasn't so afraid of murder. Instead, she was thinking about other things this woman could do to her. Was that desperate? Maybe. It had been a while since she lit up for a girl, and this girl set her on fire in two seconds flat. So maybe she could fantasize just a little while she waited.</p><p>Then her phone vibrated—Abby's name on the screen.</p><p>"Hello."</p><p>"So who's killing you?" Abby asked, the background sounding busy.</p><p>Christen pressed the phone to her ear as if someone was going to overhear their conversation even though she was utterly alone in the darkness. "No one, I don't think." She turned her back to the door. "I got to Target after it was closed. I banged on the door, trying to see if someone would let me in, and a girl popped up. She's in the back getting the gift."</p><p>"Oh, that's really nice of her."</p><p>"Yeah," she let out a long breath of air.</p><p>"And she's cute," Abby added in, sounding much more Abby now that she knew her best friend wasn't getting killed tonight. "You said she's cute, right? And she's nice."</p><p>Christen looked behind her, making sure the door didn't open without her knowing. "I mean, yeah, she's gorgeous. Like shockingly so."</p><p>"You should ask her out."</p><p>"Are you out of your freaking mind?"</p><p>"A little," Abby admitted, then chuckled. "Chris, you haven't had a date in like forever. What's the harm in asking her for coffee?"</p><p>"First, I have been on a date in forever," she whispered, checking back at the door to see that it was still closed, and she wasn't making a fool of herself to the hot, helpful stranger. "Second, it's almost 9:30. No one wants coffee this late."</p><p>"Fine, a drink. Fuck it. Who cares? Just ask." She laughed again. "Chris, take a chance. It's Christmas."</p><p>"Don't Hallmark movie me, Abigail." She was ready to go into all the reasons why this was a horrible idea when the door behind her creaked open. "I have to go. If I don't text, I'm dead."</p><p>"Or you're banging it out."</p><p>"I hate you," she whispered quickly before hanging up the phone.</p><p>For some odd reason, or not really odd, but whatever, she tried to straighten the wrinkles in her coat and fix the mess of curls she knew was sticking out of her snow hat before she walked closer to the woman.</p><p>"Christen Press?" she held up a medium box.</p><p>"That's me," Christen said happily. "You are seriously saving my life. Thank you so much."</p><p>"It's no problem," she replied happily, staring back at Christen as if she had more to say.</p><p>"It's a gift for my niece. I would have been the talk of the family Christmas party if I arrived empty-handed. She's the only child in the family right now, so she's kind of showered in love. My sister is probably going to get her some big thing that shows me up. But at least I have a gift. You know?"</p><p>"Sure," she tucked her hands into her pants.</p><p>"I'm babbling," she said quickly. "And you probably have to get back to work."</p><p>She clutched the box tightly to her body, waiting for a response, but the woman just stood with her hands pushed into the pockets of her form-fitting pants. Christen looked down to the beat-up black combat boots laced halfway and tied tight. There was something about that look that sent shivers up her spine. Suddenly for the first time in her entire life, she had some courage.</p><p>"Can I buy you a drink?'</p><p>The words flowed out of her so quickly she didn't have time to catch them and shove them back down her throat. They hung in the air, between her and the gorgeous woman lit up by a single bulb hanging over the back door of a department store. Christen stood, waiting for an answer, regretting asking, preparing for rejection, when she finally spoke.</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>"What, really?" Why was she questioning yet again?</p><p>She chuckled. "Do you know McConnell's?"</p><p>Christen turned half her body to look past the trees surrounding the building, "Yeah, it's just down the street?"</p><p>"I can meet you there," she said sweetly. "Give me like thirty or forty minutes. I have some stuff to finish up here."</p><p>"Right, you're at work," She laughed, her whole body moving. With the box, she felt like Santa giving a jovial ho, ho, ho, blah. "Um, yeah, McConnell's, in like thirty to forty."</p><p>She straightened up, giving a kind smile, "Sounds good."</p><p>Christen nodded, turning the way she came, then flipped back around, "You are going to come, right?"</p><p>She broke into a huge megawatt smile, "I'll be there."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pour One Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>McConnell's was an old Irish bar on the corner of a street full of novelty stores. It had been there for a while and turned into a local hang out that only cool people knew about and frequented. Christen had been there a few times with Abby and her guitar playing boyfriend. She had a few beers in the dark booths and wished she was cool enough to actually belong there. Tonight was no different.</p><p>She arrived at the bar around 9:40, ordered whatever was cheap and on tap, and sat down towards the middle of the bar. She didn't want to be in the back, giving this woman, which she now realized she didn't know her name, the chance to see her. Sitting too close to the entrance felt too desperate in a stupid way. Too far, and she would have to search, and that felt a little rude. So she sat on the padded vinyl booth and sipped her light beer, listening to the hardcore rock playing over the speakers, and stared down at the numbers ticking by on her phone.</p><p>It was about 10:40 when she started to give up. Typical. She would ask a girl out, one she didn't know, and wait at a bar and get stood up. This was something that would happen to her on Christmas Eve. Why not? Her life wasn't that great. She was stuck in the same small town she was born. Hopeless and lovesick. Why would someone who looked like mystery girl want anything to do with her?</p><p>She was beating herself senseless with her outstandingly insecure thoughts, the way only she could, when a sliver of light shown through in the bar. She looked over to see the woman walking through the door.</p><p>This girl was so much hotter than she remembered. Now stripped of what Christen assumed was her work clothes, she was in jeans and a dark sweater, still in those black boots.  She stomped up to the booth and pulled off her black beanie revealing long dark hair that flowed like a river, and Christen fantasized about running her fingers through and maybe giving it a light tug.</p><p>"Sorry, I'm late," she said with a smile. "Took longer than I thought."</p><p>Christen snapped out of the visualization of holding her face so close to the extraordinarily symmetrical face, she could kiss those plump, pouty lips, "It's okay, no problem. I'm always late. As you might have guessed with me banging on the door tonight." She watched as the girl's mouth turned up in a little smile. "Oh, um, sit down. I'll get you a beer. What are you drinking?"</p><p>"Whatever's on tap."</p><p>She rushed over to the bar, asking the bartender for another of his cheapest beer. She pulled a few bucks from her back pocket and slid it across the table as she grabbed the glass and headed back, now nervous and wondering if mystery girl was nervous too.</p><p>"Thanks," she took to beer, taking a sip, getting a little foam on her upper lip, and wiping it away. "I'm Heath, by the way."</p><p>"Heath?" she straightened in her seat. "Like Ledger?"</p><p>"Kind of," she shrugged.</p><p>"I'm Christen," she filled the space.</p><p>"I know," she took another sip of her beer. "I read the box."</p><p>"Right," she laughed. "When you saved my life. Thank you again. Seriously, you have no idea how much that meant."</p><p>"It's no problem. How often do you get to save a beautiful woman's life?"</p><p>Christen stared, no peered, she was peering at her with wonderment. Beautiful? Really? Her?</p><p>"That was corny," Heath said with a light laugh. "I heard it after I said it."</p><p>"No," Christen rushed out, her hands going out, fingers spread on the table as if she was setting herself up to leap over the table and pounce on the woman who called her beautiful. "It was nice."</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>"No, I had to get out of Portland," Heath said melodically as she drank the last of her beer. "It was getting too hectic there. I burned a lot of bridges."</p><p>"I know exactly what you mean," Christen responded with a slow nod. "Except my burned bridges are here, in Medford, where I still live."</p><p>"Why, don't you leave?" it was asked in such a simple way like it was completely possible.</p><p>Christen thought for a second. It had been a dream of hers, one she had so many times it was hard to think of a night when she didn't lay awake staring at the ceiling, imagining herself driving out of town. "My whole life is here. My family. My job."</p><p>"What is your job?" she toyed with the slightly damp napkin that came with her beer.</p><p>"I'm a graphic designer," she was proud of that. She worked hard. "I mostly do cover art." She watched as Heath's eyes got a little big with curiosity and her mouth formed the word 'what' without actually saying it. "The covers of books. Do you read a lot?"</p><p>"I read a fair amount."</p><p>"Have you read Hope and Hunger by Alex Morgan?" she watched a cheerful nod of recognition. "I designed the cover."</p><p>"Get out," she grinned. "With the falcon and the AHH," she held her arms out like wings. "That's so awesome." The way she spoke was so casually cool and made you feel seen and heard. "Did you get to meet Alex Morgan? Was she cool?"</p><p>Christen nodded. It was one of the coolest things that happened to her, "Yeah, I did. She was really nice. As cool as you think she is."</p><p>"That's great. I love when celebrities are cool," she leaned back in the chair, her eyes piercing into Christen. Her chest inflated for a second before she let out a breath like she had been holding it in for hours. "Can I get you another beer? You know, if you want to stay for a bit longer."</p><p>"I would love one," she tried to compose herself, not to drool all over this girl.</p><p>Heath got up and headed for the bar. Christen immediately took out her phone.</p><p><b>[Christen:]</b> Okay, so she’s beyond beautiful. And she's smart. And sweet. And god, if she does kill me, I'm one smile away from thinking it would be okay because she's amazing.</p><p><b>[Abby:]</b> You should bang her.</p><p><b>[Christen:]</b> What?! No. How'd you get that out of what I just said?</p><p><b>[Abby:]</b> Because you should bang her.</p><p><b>[Christen:]</b>  I’m not texting you anymore.<br/>
<b>[Christen:]</b> But if I was to ask her to go home with me.<br/>
<b>[Christen:]</b> How do I do that?</p><p><b>[Abby:]</b> Just ask if she wants to go home. She's in a bar on Christmas Eve. She's probably thinking the same thing.<br/>
<b>[Abby:] </b>Be bold, Chrissy.</p><p>
  <b></b>
</p><p>
  <b></b>
</p><p><b>[Christen:]</b> Fine. But I make no promises.</p><p>"Here you go," Heath came back, sliding a full glass across the table and sitting back in the booth. "So what other books have you designed?"</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>An hour had passed. Christen was nursing the tail end of her beer, trying to figure out a way to ask if Heath wanted to come home with her. It occurred to her that this was the first time she had ever done this. Sure she had been in a bar, and she's talked to girls, but this was the first time she was going to ask if someone wanted to go home after only knowing them for a few hours.</p><p>People did this all the time. Right? One night stands. Hook Ups. She was a hopeless romantic, and she knew that. She struggled in hook up culture. She had at least four different dating apps that she didn't check because no one of worth ever messaged her. Christen was a girlfriend. She knew this. Too bad no one else knew this. But maybe this girl did.</p><p>She was listening to Heath talk about her love of mystery novels when she had a thought. Maybe this was a girlfriend situation. This woman was pretty amazing and gave her chills. She looked good in dark winter clothes, which was rare. She liked to read and new authors by name and title, and that was even rarer. She did that casual thing of sitting sideways in the booth, with her left foot on the seat, as she leaned against the back and draped her arm over her knee. God, that was such a sexy move. It made her turn her head when she spoke, but also meant she could go off on a monologue and look out at the bar like whatever she was saying didn't matter, even though it did. Everything she was saying mattered because everything she was saying served to make Christen want to both jump her bones and tuck her into an ugly Christmas sweater and take a family photo. She wanted to drag her to the family house tomorrow and say, "this is Heath, she's my girlfriend," and at the same time, she wanted to peel off her hunter green military surplus sweater and see exactly what was underneath, because if her muscular forearms gave any hints, this girl was ripped.</p><p>"Do you want another beer?"</p><p>Christen looked down at the table. They were both practically done with their second glasses. She thought for a second. If she had a third beer, she would be buzzed. She would have to get an Uber home. Plus, if she was buzzed, maybe she wouldn't want to go through with this. Then again, maybe she would want to go through with it more. But Heath was looking at her with those soft brown eyes, and Christen decided tonight she was going to be bold.</p><p>"I have beer at my apartment," she said, then bit her lip, then realized that it wasn't a full thought. "If you want to come back with me, we can have beer there. At my place." Then her neck was hot, and the flood of embarrassment started to break past the damn she built. "That sounded smoother in my head."</p><p>"It sounded pretty smooth out here," Heath said sweetly, looking at Christen's face turn red. "Okay, it wasn't that smooth, but I'd still like to go."</p><p>Christen nodded, happy that her lack of pick-up skills wasn't going to deprive her of spending more time with this wonderful woman. And who knows, maybe they didn't need to <i>bang</i> as her best friend so crudely put. They could just talk more. Maybe get to know each other so well, Christen could invite her out again, and they could fall in love, and she would be happy forever.</p><p>Slow down.</p><p>They could have a drink, then maybe schedule a date for a week or so.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Devil's in the Details</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her apartment was nothing to scream about. It was as simple as it got. One bedroom, just big enough to fit a queen-sized bed, which made her happy because full-sized always made it difficult to sleep with someone else and not be completely wrapped up in them. Not that it really mattered. She never slept with anyone else. The space was still good to have.</p><p>She opened the door, thanking the gods that she actually cleaned for once. Heath followed behind her, looking so warm in her bomber jacket and black beanie atop her perfect hair. It's always a little nerve-racking letting someone new into your space. It's anxiety-inducing, wondering what they think of your most intimate objects hanging around the one place in the world you're allowed to feel completely free to be yourself.  The last time she invited a girl back to her place, she had looked around and sat on the couch like a bird on a perch, and it made Christen feel strange, like her stuff wasn't good enough.</p><p>Heath was different. She took off her jacket like she was home. She pulled her hat from her head, tucking it in the jacket pocket before hanging it over the chair at the table. She was comfortable, in a way that set Christen at ease, in a way that she had never been before. Somehow she felt more comfortable with Heath in her place than she did when she was alone. She watched as she did a little turn in the small kitchen/dining/living room area. She was looking, but it wasn't in a way that made you feel like she was judging. She just looked, studying, thinking.</p><p>"Do you want a beer?" Christen asked, remembering the excuse she gave to get her in the apartment.<br/>
Heath tucked her hand in her back pocket, "Yeah, I'll take whatever you got."</p><p>That was good because she didn't have much—a few bottles of cheap gas station beer and half a bottle of whiskey. One of the things she was noticing about this statue of a woman with her hands pushed in the back pocket of her tight jeans, making it look like she was cupping her own ass, which was toned and needed to be cupped by someone, the thing was, Heath, didn't seem picky. She took whatever you had, or whatever was on tap. As she explained in the bar, she liked to read books in the sale pile because she wanted to read real authors, indie ones that people ignored because they weren't big names. Her clothes were worn in and used. Her boots clearly walked in for miles. She was the type of girl that you met at a party your friend brought you too, where the light is low, and she is chatting up some desperate looking girl in a short skirt, but she happens to notice you. She was the type of girl that could start a fire with just two sticks, and that was fucking hot.</p><p>Christen cracked open the bottles and handed one over. "So, this is my place."</p><p>"I like it," she looked out towards the couch. Then took a swig from the amber bottle. "You have a lot of books."</p><p>"Yeah, that happens in my line of work," she joked, headed towards her bookshelf.</p><p>Normally she would feel awkward showing her collection to someone she was so attracted to, but those curious brown eyes made her feel proud to have more books than friends.</p><p>"I love to read, of course, but I also like to study other's work."</p><p>"For inspiration," she smiled.</p><p>She understood as an artist would understand. Christen looked down at her hands, hoping she would find paint under her fingernails or an indention on the top of her ring finger from holding color pencils for hours as she worked out her ideas. But her hands were clean, no markings that said she spent an enormous amount of time hunched over a sketch pad or standing at an easel </p><p>"What were you doing at Target so late?" she remembered that they talked about authors and hometowns all night. They never got to Heath's heroic efforts at the place they met. "Are you like the night manager or something?"</p><p>"Not really," she squatted down to look closer at the books on the bottom shelf. "It's just seasonal, something to supplement the normal income."</p><p>"Oh, what's your normal job?"</p><p>She stood up, running her hand through her thick hair, letting it fall around her shoulders and look so damn dreamy. "Accounting." She laughed a little, taking a few steps to the side to start looking at the books on the other shelves. "Boring, I know."</p><p>"I mean, that's not what I would have pegged you for," she admitted, somehow knowing she was free to speak her mind, whatever thoughts she may have.</p><p>"It's not what I like doing," she said in an agreeable tone. "But it's what I'm good at." She moved around the room. It was slow as she took in the rest of the place, the rest of Christen. "I quit when I moved here, but I'm sure I'll fall back into it. Until then."</p><p>"I get it," she did get it. She loved her job, but there was a time when she never thought she would succeed, so she worked at a coffee shop and served warm drinks to cold people and hated every second. </p><p>She got lucky so far, with jobs thrown her way that turned into her being able to turn down jobs. She was happily in the sweet spot of success and able to switch it up if she ever wanted.</p><p>For no reason at all, she added in a piece of information that she only told her best friend. "I kind of wish I could write my own book."</p><p>"Really?" she looked so excited like they had been friends for years, and she was helping her reach her potential. "What about?"</p><p>"I don't know. Romance, a little sci-fi." She moved away from the bookshelf, not feeling worthy of being in the presence of published work while she talked about her hopeless dream. "I've started the first chapter, but I don't know. I guess I'm kind of stuck."</p><p>"Can I read it?"</p><p>"What? No." she instinctively went to the desk in the corner where she had printed off the first chapter of her book. "It's stupid. You read actual books."</p><p>"Oh, come on, Chris," she said so familiarly it made Christen want to melt. "I promise I'll be gentle."</p><p>She could be gentle with her hands on Christen's body.</p><p> "Okay, but I don't want to watch you read it, so go over there."</p><p>"To the couch?" she pointed, then turned her body. She headed for the couch without a fight, setting her drink down on the coffee table and waiting.</p><p>This was the first time she was handing these pages off to anyone. She printed them after watching a video about reading your work on paper and not on screen. It was supposed to make her feel like it was a real book or something like that, but it didn't. The whole thing was a little wrinkled from her shoving it out her view so many times, and it had some red pen marks where she wanted to change some things. If it was anyone else, she would have told them no, never, not in a million years, but Heath, it was different with her. Everything just felt so different with her.</p><p>She slowly handed over the six pages of double-spaced drivel she wrote out two months ago. After taking a second to release the off-white sheets into the steady hand of the girl she couldn't stop looking at, Christen went to her desk and opened her laptop. She couldn't watch Heath read her words. It was too much, so she pulled up a video of dogs dancing.</p><p>But her eyes, they drifted to the girl lounging on her grey couch. She watched her head as she laid back on the throw pillows like they were her own. She was beautiful, like a song. Her legs were long and flexed as she got more comfortable. She still had her sweater on, but the sleeves were pushed up, and there was a black hair tie around her wrist. Her torso looked long, like it could go on for days like you could lay your entire body on her and feel so safe. As she read, Christen imagined her being there in the morning, and the afternoon, and the next night. She imagined walking towards the couch with Heath sitting happily, and she would go sit next to her, and snuggle up to her, and be happy. What would that be like?</p><p>"This is good," Heath sat up. "Chris, this is really good."</p><p>She rushed over to the couch, plopping down without a thought of how close they were. "Really, you think so?"</p><p>"Yes, it has a little mystery vibe to it, which I really like." She looked so sincere, holding the papers and giving them a little shake. "And your main character, she's a little bitchy, which I wouldn't expect from you, but I like it. She's tough."</p><p>"I tried to make her like rough and tumble, even though I have no idea what that really means." She let out a light laughing, bouncing a little as she spoke. "You really like it? You're not just saying that?"</p><p>"No, I like it," she reached out and placed a firm hand on Christen's thigh. "You should continue."</p><p>"I want to…" her head was exploding with the hand warming her thigh. "I have a rough outline…" and the way Heath was looking at her, expectedly, wantingly, "I've started the next chapter…" How in the world is someone this beautiful?</p><p>"Can I kiss you?"</p><p>Christen wasn't sure if she was the one that said it, or if it was in her head, or if it was an echo, or what, but she nodded. With little time to prepare, she could feel firm lips pressed against her, and god, it was like magic.</p><p>It didn't take long, the easy acceptance of the fact that she was about to sleep with someone she had just met. But that was the thing. It didn't feel like their first meeting. It felt like she was remembering her like they had done this a million times, and this was them coming back together after some time apart. And it had to be true. It must have been, with the way Heath touched her. They had to have done all this because Heath moved her hands all over her body in a way that felt like she had done it before. And Christen was falling into her, letting her take the lead like she knew everything was going to be wonderful, and she never had to worry.</p><p>Without a thought, Christen's shirt was being pulled over her head and discarded on the floor. Heath stood up and took off her dark sweater, revealing an even darker shirt underneath. She didn't hesitate to strip off the long-sleeve, showing off a tightly packed expanse of pure muscle. Her jeans were low on her hips, and you could see that v-cut that said she did a million sit-ups, and Christen's mind went blank.<br/>
She didn't want to think, not in that second. She just wanted to look a feel. Heath was on top of her quickly, kissing her neck, her hand going to the small of her back, and she laid them down on the couch, stretching out. She was so warm, almost burning hot like a shower turned to the max, it hurts just a little, but it feels so damn good. Everything she did felt good. The way her lips felt against the sensitive skin just below her ear, the way her teeth dug in just a little, and the way she soothed the sting with her tongue. Christen probably wouldn't have noticed her bra coming off. It wasn't for the cold air hitting her nipples, making them perk up. She wouldn't have thought much of it at all if it wasn't for Heath leaning down to run her tongue over one, then the other, placing open mouth kisses on her chest, making her hips thrust in the air.</p><p>Her body never reacted like this, not with anyone, not even with herself, the one person who should know exactly what she wants and needs. But she must have been lying to herself all those years she spent with her own hand grabbing her chest because what she really wanted, what her body really called for, was Heath's tongue swirling around her nipples, her hands racking across her chest, the feel of the skin on skin contact. What she really wanted to do, something she didn't know until she did it, was dig her nails into the muscled back, making her flex. She wanted to pull off the tight sports bra and throw it where ever, and run her hands up a chest with a tight flex just underneath soft breasts. She wanted the way rough hands felt against the thin skin on her ribs. She wanted strong hands pulling at the button of her jeans.</p><p>The last time she was in this position, with a woman pulling her pants down and kissing up her legs, it was more of a get this over with situation. This was never her favorite part because she was usually self-conscious. She usually thought too much for it to work. She worried about all the things you worry about when someone is slowly pulling your panties down. Her mind would always wander into not being turned on because she didn't want to be too much. But watching Heath pulling those dark brown locks back and tying them with the band on her wrist, watching the sly smile come on her face as she got down on her knees, seeing her eyes close, as she kissed her calf, nibbled at the inside of her thigh, made her jump as she got closer, there was no holding back, and Christen no longer cared about being too much, she only cared about pulling her in closer.</p><p>It was new, the feeling she got, the jolt of lighting that ran up her spine, she struck her brain, making her moan instantly. Normally she would try to hold back, keep it a little under control, make some noise, but not so much she felt like a porn star, but there was no control, not with Heath, not with the way her tongue was flicking across her clit, not with the way she sucked and licked, and gripped her hips tight pulling her closer like she couldn't get enough. Christen couldn't hold back. She let her voice be heard as she felt the talented tongue slip inside just a little, just enough to make her hips buck.</p><p>"Fuck, oh my god." She let slip as her hands went to grab the ones clutching to her hips.</p><p>Heath looked up, brown eyes and messy smiles, "You good?"</p><p>"So good," she breathed out, uncaring how desperate she sounded, "Don't stop."</p><p>With another sly, cocky as hell smile, Heath dived back in, continuing the onslaught with enthusiasm. And Christen was going a little insane with the pleasure between her legs, with the small amount of pain on her hips as Heath's grip got tighter. She could feel it, stronger than she had ever felt it, more powerful than anything anyone, including herself, had ever brought. She could feel it build up like a skyscraper, and with one more quick dip into her, she broke, demolished, finished, crumbled into the ground, shaking, yet sure she would be safe in her hands. She came with her hips moving without her brain directing, as Heath continued, although gentler now, bringing her down safely to calm happiness.<br/>
With her head back, her breathing heavy, Christen tried to steady herself, tried to call her vision back. She felt Heath kissing the inside of her thighs, softly now, not so much nipping as before, more soothing, loving, caring. Christen picked her head up in enough time to watch her run her hand over her mouth and look up with a big cheesy grin.</p><p>"You're amazing," Christen breathed out, her chest still heaving.</p><p>"Me?" she responded coolly. "That's all you," she moved up to kiss her, letting her tongue slip into her mouth.</p><p>Normally Christen wasn't into kissing after something like that, but it was so hot when Heath did it. The way it was a little forceful, but soft in a way that let you know you could put a gentle hand to her chest, and she would slow down. But slowing down wasn't on Christen's mind when she tasted herself on Heath's tongue, letting her lick into her mouth as her legs went to wrap around her waist. She noticed that Heath still had her jeans on, and she remembered that she never took her combat boots off, and that made the whole thing so much hotter.</p><p>Heath moved to kiss her neck, biting just below her ear, making Christen let out a low moan and buck her hips. "Do you want to go to the bedroom?" she whispered in her ear.<br/>
It was just after the nod that Christen felt herself being picked up. She wasn't paying attention to much, just the image of her being carried to her bed by this goddess in tight black jeans, worn in combat boots, and nothing else. And as she was practically thrown on the bed in the sexiest way anyone could be thrown, she looked up at the dark woman pulling off her jeans. Christen had her first very dirty, downright filthy, shame on you, thought she'd had in a very long time. She was going to be fucked tonight, and she was so happy she was late to the store.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Are You There Aphrodite? It’s Me, Completely Satisfied.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The light came through the curtains, shining a beam right in Christen's eyes. She groaned at being awake. She was exhausted in the best of ways. Everything on her body was a little sore. Her arms were a little week from holding herself up. Her knees ached from being on all fours. Her things burned from holding herself up over Heath's mouth. Her hands were tight from gripping her headboard. </p><p>She had dirty, filthy sex with a woman that blew her mind. She cried out until her throat was hoarse for a stranger that she felt like she knew all her life. She laid down on her back and let Heath lay on top with her crushingly heavy body, making her feel capsuled, closed up, wrapped in the only thing that could possibly bring her happiness. Nothing else would do after last night. No one would ever compare. There was no other woman who smelled like leather and sandalwood, a little like smoke, that would ever make her feel like her soul left her body for just a little bit. </p><p>Heath was… She was… Perfection wrapped in a tightly muscled body. She was… Gone.</p><p>Christen panicked as she reached over in her bed and felt the spot empty. She remembered going to sleep last night, her body drained and relaxed. She remembered Heath laying that gorgeous head of dark brown hair down on the pillow next to her. She remembered looking into her eyes, watching her smile, as she was told to get some rest. She remembered the lamp being clicked off and feeling the warm body next to her. She remembered thinking she wouldn't need heat in her apartment if Heath would sleep in her bed every night. The woman was a furnace, and it was perfect. </p><p>But now, as she sat up, with her down comforter falling off her bare chest, landing in her naked lap, she realized she was alone, and she didn't remember when Heath left. Her heart started to crack in her chest as she remembered that she never asked for her number. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks as the thought came to her mind that it was done, over, just one night. The best night with the most amazing woman in the whole world, and it was the only one she'd ever have. </p><p>She wanted to cry and was ready to set herself up for a long one when her phone started to ring. She had to get up from bed to grab it from the kitchen table. </p><p>"Yeah, hello?"</p><p>"Christen, where are you?" Abby called over the line. "Because I'm at your parents' house, and you are certainly not."</p><p>"Shit," she pushed her hair out of her face, then realized she was naked, and suddenly felt embarrassed even though no one could see her. "I'll be there in twenty. Just cover for me, please."</p><p>There was no time to mourn the loss of the best thing that ever happened to her. She had to go spend freaking Christmas with her freaking family. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p>Christen pulled herself together the best she could. After a quick shower and even quicker make-up sessions, she was in her car and headed to her childhood home. She drove slow, even though she was late, but it didn't really matter. Nothing seemed to be worse than waking up and not having Heath's phone number. Everything her family would throw at her would be pebbles compared to the brick that was never seeing Heath again. </p><p>At the house, Christen stood on the porch, taking a second to settle her thoughts before opening the door. </p><p>"Merry Christmas!" she called out, trying to sound cheerful. </p><p>"Aunt Christen!" a tiny voice followed by a tiny person came flying around the corner. "You're here! You're here!"</p><p>"Hey, munchkin," Christen said, genuinely happy to see her favorite person. "I am here. I would never miss Christmas with the best person ever." She hugged her close, delighting in her little giggles. </p><p>"Is that my present?" The little girl asked, looking at the box in her aunt's hand. </p><p>"Yes," Christen held it high in the air making the girl jump up. "You can't have it until mom and grandpa say you know the rules."</p><p>Christen made her way into the living room, with the girl jumping at her heels like a little dog excited about life. She put the present down next to the rest by the tree. </p><p>"You're late," a familiar voice said. "Funny how Abby can make it on time, but my sister can't."</p><p>"Merry Christmas, Ty," Christen grinned and went in for the expected hug.</p><p>"Aunt Ty," the little girl called out, pulling on her aunt's hand, "Aunt Christen got me a big present."</p><p>"Did she, Dawn, my love," Tyler squatted down to the girl's level, "Or did it just come in a big box?"</p><p>Christen shook her head and started to gear up to say something when Abby came into the living room with glasses in her hands. </p><p>"Egg nog," Abby sang out, pushing glasses into the two women's hands. "The adult bowl for us." She squatted down with a smaller plastic cup, "And some egg nog from the Dawn bowl for my favorite girl."</p><p>"Thanks, Aunt Abby," Dawn said, taking a big chug of her drink, leaving her with an egg nog mustache. "Hey, grandpa is making a cake. You should go ask to lick the spoon."</p><p>The little girl's eyes got wide, and she cheered as she ran towards the kitchen. </p><p>Abby stood up and scowled at Tyler, then to Christen. "You two good, here, at your parent's house, on Christmas, with Dawn in the other room?"</p><p>Tyler narrowed her eyes before giving a smile, "Of course." She turned and headed for the kitchen. </p><p>Abby looked over at her best friend, "I put a little extra adult in your adult egg, nog."</p><p>"Thank God." Christen sat down on the couch, sipping her very adult drink, happy to have a friend like Abby to always rescue her. "Sorry, I'm late."</p><p>"No worries," Abby said, taking a seat next to her. "How was last night? I see you're not dead."</p><p>"Not dead, just crushed." </p><p>"What? Why? What happened?"</p><p>There was no hiding from Abby. She always figured these things out. Plus, it would feel good to just say it. With a quick gulp of her strong holiday drink, Christen poured out her feelings. </p><p>"I took Target girl home," she started slowly, letting Abby get her gasps out. "She was amazing, Abs, like totally amazing in every single way. She's smart and funny and sweet. And the sex…"</p><p>"Christen!" Abby scouted closer. "You did it."</p><p>"Yes, and it was like, mind-blowing." She sighed. "But she wasn't there when I woke up." She paused for a second, needing to build up to the worst part. "And I didn't get her number."</p><p>"What the hell? Why wouldn't you get her number? That's rule number one."</p><p>"I know," she sunk further into the couch. "I just got caught up talking to her. We just clicked instantly. We talked about writers and traveling and life. I felt like I've known her my whole life." She took a swig of her drink, swallowing hard. "I let her read my novel."</p><p>"What?" Abby moved closer at the admitted secret. "I can't even read it. You barely told me."</p><p>"I know," she exclaimed. "I felt that close to her."</p><p>Reading the pain on her friend's face, Abby put her arm around her shoulder. "First, we are going to get you more adult egg nog, so you can get through this day. Then we are going to figure this out."</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Christen drank enough adult egg nog to have to be driven home by Abby. It wasn't just the thought of not seeing Heath again. It was also her sister who outdid her once again. Christen bought her niece a dollhouse that she was over the moon for until Tyler brought out the tablet. Of course, Channing kept the piece, and her dad made sure Dawn didn't feel the tension between the two sisters, but Christen was wrecked. One of her joys in life is getting to make her niece happy, and yet it's always her own sister that seems to take that away. It didn't matter. Christmas was ruined no matter what. </p><p>Abby decided to stay the night, help Christen finish off the half bottle of whiskey, and leftovers from Christmas diner. They sat at the small table, passing the bottle back and forth, eating mashed potatoes out of the container. </p><p>"I got it!" Abby popped up after her third spoon full of food. "She works at Target."</p><p>Christen pushed another glop of potatoes in her mouth, "Okay?"</p><p>"Chrissy, she works at Target," she stood up, a little too fast, and had to sit back down. "You can go to Target, and she will be there."</p><p>"Oh my god," she sat up, "You're a genius." </p><p>"Hell yeah, I'm a genius."</p><p>Christen clicked her phone. It was 10:45. There was no way anyone was at the store, especially on Christmas. She vowed to go tomorrow. She vowed to find her perfect girl.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Stop Right There</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was a little too hungover for this. </p><p>Somehow Christen got up at a normal time, managed to take a shower, and get out of the house without waking her friend on the couch. She drove through her hometown, down that road she’s been down her entire life and ended up in the parking lot of Target, which was disgustingly full for it being the day after one of the biggest holidays in the country. </p><p>A little disappointed in America for returning to business as usual, she got out of her car and head for the entrance. She hoped she would see Heath instantly, maybe just walk into her as she got in the store, but that didn’t happen. She looked around for a while and remembered that she never asked what department she worked in, so she was going to have to talk to someone. </p><p>As luck would have it, a girl was stocking shelves next to customer service. She had on the typical red shirt, khaki pants, but she was wearing combat boots, that reminded Christen of Heath. </p><p>“Hello,” Christen said cautiously. “Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>The girl stood up, she was tall and cute, and maybe if Christen wasn’t searching for her dream girl, she would have flirted a bit. “Of course, how can I help you?”</p><p>“Hi, Kelley,” she read the girl's name tag. “I’m looking for a girl. Not just any girl, that sounds weird.” She took a breath. She wasn’t suave. Why was she even trying.? “I’m looking for someone who works here. Her name is Heath, and she’s tall, has brown hair, brown eyes, extraordinarily gorgeous, in a dark and mysterious kind of way.” She had to pull it together, reign it in. “I met her on Christmas Eve, later in the night. I know you guys can’t give out employee information, and I promise I’m not like a stalker or anything. I just…” she took another breath. “Maybe you can tell me, if I show up later today, around closing, will I happen to see Heath.”</p><p>She smiled, then raised an eyebrow, “Nobody named Heath works here.”</p><p>“What,” Christen steadied herself, feeling her hope slip away. </p><p>“You said you met her on Christmas Eve? Late?” she looked around. </p><p>And that’s when Christen noticed, the guys in suits behind the customer service desk. A man with a red button-up was pointing up at cameras. </p><p>“What’s happening here?” she down the aisle towards the door marked Employees Only and noticed a uniformed officer standing next to it. </p><p>Kelley looked straight through her, “We were robbed. On Christmas Eve.” She looked over to the guys in suits. “Can you stay here?”</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>How fast can she run? She had never asked herself that question before. However, she found out. </p><p>She bopped past the employee and headed down the aisle, out the door, and made a break for her car. Quicker than she ever had in her life, she was in the driver’s seat, car on, in gear, and driving out the parking lot. </p><p>Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her lungs felt too small. Can lungs be too small? She was going to die, in her car, driving down past the stupid bar she had a drink at. She was going to crash, or swerve, or something. Her head felt puffy like she had a cold, or there was a plastic bag over her head. She was dying. This was it. She was going to die. </p><p>Somehow, by the grace and glory of whatever god she prayed to, she didn’t remember right now, she made it to her apartment. She jumped into the door, slamming it and locking the big lock before turning and letting out a scream. </p><p>“Jesus, Chris, what the hell?” Abby sat up.</p><p>Christen rushed into the living room and started pacing. “She’s a burglar.” She spit out. On her second turned towards the kitchen, she saw the whiskey bottle with a little left, and dashed to drink the rest of it down. </p><p>“Wow, okay, it’s ten in the morning.” Abby got up from the couch and put her hands on Christen’s shoulders. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Heath!” she panic screamed. “I went to Target to see her, or see if someone could tell me when I could see her.” She could feel Abby pushing her down into the seat, she didn’t struggle, sitting down and breathing heavy. “They were robbed. Target. They were robbed on Christmas Eve after hours.”</p><p>“Wait, what?” Abby shook her head, her blonde bed head falling in her face. “You went to Target and they said they were robbed.”</p><p>“Yes! And Heath didn’t work there.” Christen bit her fingernails. “They were robbed on Christmas Eve when Heath got the gift for me. She doesn’t work there, but she was there. She’s a burglar. She burgled Target. Then I slept with her.”</p><p>“Damn,” she sighed, falling back on her butt. “That’s pretty fucked.”</p><p>“I know,” she sighed, slapping her legs. “I had sex with a burglar.”</p><p>“Stop saying burglar, it sounds like she stole a bunch of hamburgers.” Abby looked around the room for a few minutes waiting for her friend to get it together. “What did she steal? Did they tell you?”</p><p>“No, I ran out of there when the employee, the <i>real employee</i> told me they were robbed. I just ran.”</p><p>Abby nodded, “Well, you can never go to Target again.”</p><p>“You think?” she looked more panicked. </p><p>“Well, yeah, you ran,” she said simply. “We need coffee.”</p><p>Christen nodded, “And booze.” </p><p>She listened as her best friend stated the coffee maker. Images played in her mind. The way Heath smiled at her. The way she spoke like the world wasn’t such a bad place. The way she made it seem like Christen was okay, safe, in their little bubble of one night. </p><p>“Abby,” she whispered. “She was so amazing.” She saw the shadow of her friend standing behind her. The tears started to well up in her eyes. “I’ve never felt that way.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. At Your Very Service</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been two days. Christen practically locked herself in her apartment. She was a little afraid, not of Heath, but of the cops seeing her and somehow knowing she slept with the woman who robbed a freaking Target. She had shown up at the scene of the crime and asked about the criminal. Maybe she was a little paranoid. Maybe not. People have gone to prison for smaller things. </p><p>There was a piece of her that stayed because she thought about Heath coming back. Was that what she wanted? Did she want a criminal to come back to her house? A little. Heath was, besides the whole criminal thing, the best girl she had ever met. And the sex was, as she would describe it, life-changing. So maybe it wouldn't be that bad if she were to come back. It wouldn't be that bad if she showed up and explained that it was all a misunderstanding. And they could lay in bed all day and talk like they did in the bar and do the exact thing they did in the apartment. If it was all just a big coincidence, then Christen could wrap up in her, and smell her skin, and kiss her lips, and just be happy for once in her life. </p><p>She just needed her to come back.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting around gets boring after two days. She was used to being stuck in her apartment, but that was because she was usually working on a project. Currently, she was waiting on an author to send her the notes for the cover art, so she was project less, besides her own book, which she didn't want to work on. Every time she looked at the pages, she remembered the way Heath's hands held onto them so gently. She remembered the way she stretched out on the couch like it was her own. She remembered how much she wanted her on the couch. And, of course, she remembered what they did on the couch right after Heath became the first person to read her first chapter. </p><p>The best thing to do was to get out of the house, go somewhere, see something else. She ended up at a Chinese food place, reading the menu with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her mind couldn't focus on anything but the thought of Heath and the way she smiled. She was occupied with her. She was plagued with her. </p><p>A half-hour later, Christen was slowly walking down her own street, take away in her hand a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had her phone out as she dragged her feet down the block when she saw a distinctive pair of boots.</p><p>She looked up and saw the tall figure, standing with her hands tucked into the pockets of the same bomber jacket she wore that night. Heath was standing at the entrance of her apartment, looking perfect as she did that night. </p><p>"Christen," she smiled that huge, white smile that filled her face and made Christen want to melt into her arms. </p><p>But she couldn't melt into her arms. Nope, she wouldn't. Pushing past her, she headed for the front entrance. </p><p>"Christen, please, talk to me," Heath said, sounding as desperate as Christen felt. </p><p>She couldn't help herself. She had to turn around. "I can't talk to you." She tried to sound firm, final. "You're a robber."</p><p>"Robber?" she chuckled lightly, the same way she did in the bar and made Christen want to hear her laugh every single day. "What, do I have a bandit mask on and a bag with a dollar sign on it?"</p><p>Christen stood her ground. She didn't want to laugh. "If you're not a robber, then what are you?"</p><p>Heath held her arms out, "I'm a thief." She smiled in a way that made Christen hesitate in her stance. "And I'm sorry."</p><p>"For what? Robbing Target or sleeping with me?"</p><p>"I would never be sorry about sleeping with you," she took a step closer. "That was the best night of my entire life."</p><p>Her heart skipped. Stupid heart. She tried to control herself, standing up straight. "You robbed Target."</p><p>"Allegedly," Heath said quickly. "Can I come in? It's colder than hell out here."</p><p>Christen took a breath. She couldn't. Right?</p><p>"Chris, please," she looked up like a puppy dog, her eyes so big and worried. </p><p>Dammit.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Just as before, Heath came in, following diligently behind Christen. She took off her beanie and put it in the pocket of her jacket. She was in fitted army green cargo pants and a white long-sleeve V-neck t-shirt. She looked so inviting, and Christen fantasized for a quick second about kissing her and warming up, clinging to her strong form. Then she remembered what was happening. </p><p>"What do you want, Heath?" she asked with some bite. "It's that even your name."</p><p>"Yes. It's my last name," she smirked, holding her arms out wide. "Tobin P. Heath, at your service."</p><p>"Tobin?" she liked the name, but she wasn't willing to say that right now. "Why are you here?"</p><p>"I wanted to see you," she replied innocently. She sounded so small, for being such a large figure. "I was going to come here a few days ago, but I thought I'd let you cool down a bit. But I wanted to see you the second Kelley told me you went looking for me."</p><p>"Kelley?" the name clicked in her mind. "Target Kelley? She told you I was there?"</p><p>"Well yeah," Tobin smiled. </p><p>"She's your friend." Christen could feel herself starting to panic again. "Are you two in cahoots?" </p><p>"Cahoots?" she did that little laugh thing that gave Christen this funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Where are you getting your criminal lingo from?"</p><p>"Nowhere, because I'm not a criminal." She snapped, suddenly angry. "I don't know how to talk like a criminal because I'm not one. You are!"</p><p>Tobin's eyes got big. She started to blink more than usual. Her head fell, hanging, looking up, and giving a weak smile. She blinked for a second before pulling her hat from her pocket. </p><p>"I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry." She said without looking over to Christen. "I thought you came looking for me because… it's stupid. I'm sorry. I'm causing you problems."</p><p>Her black beanie was back on; her hair pushed down. She was at the door, her hand turning the knob when Christen said something. </p><p>"You thought what?" </p><p>Tobin paused for a second, then let go, but didn't turn around. "I thought maybe you came looking for me because you felt the same way I did. But I know I was wrong. I'm sorry, Chris. You won't have to see me again." She reached back out for the doorknob. </p><p>"Wait!" Christen practically shouted, holding her hands out, then pulling them back into herself. She didn't know what she was doing. But, she knew she needed a second to think.</p><p>Tobin. That was her name, and it fit her better than Heath. She looked like a Tobin. She dressed like a Tobin would dress, though Christen wasn't sure what that meant. But she thought about it and decided that if she went over and hugged her, she would probably feel like a Tobin. </p><p>"How do you feel?" Christen whispered, so unsure of herself at the moment that she had to question whether or not she asked it out loud. </p><p>Tobin spun around slowly, peering up, looking so lovely. "I can't stop thinking about you."</p><p>A confession that almost knocked Christen over. How was that possible? How was a girl like her, Tobin, with her hardcore look and gentle soul; Tobin had to guts and know how to rob a department store; how could she be standing in her apartment saying she couldn't stop thinking about her? Christen. The book cover designer? </p><p>"Chris, I know it was just one night," Tobin started, her voice sounded more confident now. "But it felt like so much more. I left because I was afraid if you found out what I had done, that you wouldn't want to see me. But I shouldn’t've left. I shouldn’t've done a lot of things, but I can't take anything back now." She pulled her hat from her head, her hair a little wild. "When I saw you the other day, and you were standing in the window, asking for help, I couldn't stop myself. You looked so freaking cute, and you said I could save your life. I wanted to, even though I could've blown the whole thing, I wanted to help you. Then you asked me to the bar, and we got to talking, and I thought, okay yeah, one night with the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I can do one night. Then in the morning, I thought, I don't want just one night. But you're so good, and I'm like, not good. I didn't want to hurt you, so I ran because I thought I could stay away, but I realized I didn't want to. Then Kelley told me you were looking for me, and I thought, fuck it, you know, go see, she's worth it. So now I'm here."</p><p>Dammit.</p><p>Christen practically launched herself into Tobin's arms. Luckily Tobin was fast enough to catch her. They crashed their lips together, giving into the frantic kiss they both wanted. And as they moved together, and Christen wrapped her arms around Tobin's neck, pulling them even closer, she thought, yeah, she even kisses like a Tobin. </p><p>They moved to sit on the couch, Christen sitting so close to her, she could smell that wonderful mix of scents that made her head spin. But they couldn't just sit and make out. They had to talk. There had to be a discussion about all of this. It was the responsible thing to do. </p><p>"You're a criminal," Christen said, after grabbing Tobin's hands and playing with her fingers. </p><p>"I know," she responded. "But I don't want to be. I was an accountant. I have a degree and everything. I just got mixed up with some bad people. They asked me to fudge some numbers for their business. I didn't think anything of it until I was so far in I didn't know how to get out. I had to run. So I left Portland. But I had debts, and they were not the type of people to let them go, so I asked around. Kelley told me about a job."</p><p>"Robbing Target on Christmas Eve."</p><p>"Yeah," she sighed, squeezing Christen's hand before letting her go back to running a finger across her palm. "Those big box stores, they stockpile cash during the holidays to keep up with people buying last-minute gifts. And they don't go to the bank until after Christmas. It was easy. I hid in one of those giant plastic containers while they locked up. Then I let Kelley in the back, and she unlocked the safe. Quick, easy. No one got hurt, and the money is insured, so they'll get it all back."</p><p>"I don't get it," Christen confessed, feeling a little naïve. "Why'd you even open the door for me. You could have just hidden. I was like two seconds from leaving when you popped up."</p><p>"I wanted to save your life." She shrugged. "I've never done anything good before."</p><p>A warm feeling pooled in her stomach, she wanted to kiss her again, but she needed more answers. "What about the cameras? Those places have tones of them all over the place."</p><p>"Kelley shut them off remotely." </p><p>"Okay, what about Kelley? She's still working there."</p><p>"She can't quit the day after the place is robbed. That's suspicious." She said. "She'll work for a little while longer, then take her half of the money and move somewhere. I don't know where we didn't discuss that. We weren't supposed to have contact again, but she called me about you." She looked over with a sly smile. "She said you were fawning over me."</p><p>"I was not fawning," she shook her head, feel the heat rise in her cheeks. "I just wanted to see you again."</p><p>"Well, I'm glad, because I wanted to see you again too." She leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. When she pulled back, she looked worried.</p><p>"But what now?" Christen asked, curious about everything. </p><p>"I have to go eventually. I can't stay in Medford. I paid off my debts when I went to Portland for Christmas, but I know if I stay here, those guys will try and find me again. They'll find a way to make me work for them. I don't want to be a criminal anymore. I want to live a good life."</p><p>"So you're leaving?"</p><p>"I have to. I don't have a choice." She straightened up. </p><p>"But what about us? What about this?" She grabbed her hand, holding it tight. </p><p> "Come with me." Her voice was so sure like there was no other option. "Chris, I know this is like the second time we've talked, but I know there's something here. I can feel it. And we won't be gone for long, and definitely not forever. Just until they forget about me."</p><p>"Tobin, I…" she paused, looking over into the deepest brown eyes she's ever seen. "I don't know what to say."</p><p>Deflated, Tobin tried to smile. "Just think about it, okay? I understand if you can't, but please think about it."</p><p>Was it crazy? Hell yes! It was absolutely insane. It was the most insane thing she could ever think of. Running away with a criminal. Leaving her home. Leaving her family. Yeah, sure, it wasn't forever. It would be like a long vacation. What did she have to lose? Her apartment was whatever that didn't matter. Abby would probably tell her to go for it. She could come back before Dawn's birthday. </p><p>Was she talking herself into this? No… But Yes. But Tobin. Beautiful, loving, strong Tobin who came into her life like a whirlwind. Who almost blew her robbery mission just so Christen could give her niece a Christmas present. Tobin, who came back for her.</p><p>She came back for her. </p><p>"I guess I can work from anywhere, really," Christen said without thinking. "I mean, I just need my computer and an internet connection."</p><p>Tobin shot up, "Really? I mean, yeah, that's true. We can go anywhere, like anywhere. I have my truck. We can just jump in and go." Her eyes were so big, so full of hope. </p><p>Christen stood up. She could feel the excitement bubbling up inside her, "Are we doing this?"</p><p>Taking her hand, Tobin settled, "If you want to."</p><p>She wasn't leaving anything behind. She was only leaving her miserable past. She wasn't leaving. She was going somewhere. She was going into a future with a girl she felt like held it all in her hands, in their hands. She was doing this. She could do this. She wanted to. </p><p>It took her twenty minutes to pack a bag. She was sitting in the passenger's seat of an old pick up truck, staring out the window, watching the town she knew disappear into the rearview. Looking over, she saw her future in the driver's seat, grinning from ear to ear. </p><p>"So, now what?" Christen asked, reaching over to take Tobin's hand. </p><p>"Where do you want to go?" She asked sweetly. "I have most of my share of the money left, so we can go anywhere."</p><p>"What's most of your share?" </p><p>"Well, we pulled 650 stacks from the store."</p><p>"650 stacks? Like dollars?"</p><p>"I told you they stockpile cash for the holidays. Plus, that store is like the district store. It held all the holiday bonuses in cash for the entire area. It was a good time to rob the place." She glanced at Christen, who still looked confused. "A stack is $1,000."</p><p>"Oh my god, $650,000." Her mouth hung open as she tried to process the information. "Tobin, that's insane."</p><p>"Well, I split it 50/50 with Kelley, and I paid about twenty-five in debts, so I have what's leftover."</p><p>"Tobin, that's over a quarter of a million dollars."</p><p>"I know," she smiled. "So, where do you want to go? What do you want to do?"</p><p>She sat back in the truck, taking Tobin's warm hand in her. "I don't care. I just want to be with you."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So that's it, my fluffy story for the holiday. I hope everyone has a great holiday this season.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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